


Scientist Overboard

by BML1997



Series: A Scientific Spin Offs [1]
Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: Angst, M/M, angst and hurt comfort, expect angst, hurt comfort, tw: one near-drowning scene but I'll warn in the author note before hand for that chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BML1997/pseuds/BML1997
Summary: At this point, Francis and Kowalski have been dating for over a year when Kowalski and the others go on a mission out at sea. Kowalski finds himself washed overboard during a bad storm, waking up without any memory on an island. He and his spirit guide then attempt to return to New York while the others try to find him. A Blowhole x Kowalski fic.
Relationships: Dr. Blowhole/Kowalski (Madagascar), Franski
Series: A Scientific Spin Offs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845388
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Infrared Herring Toaster

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Scientific Match](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513651) by [BML1997](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BML1997/pseuds/BML1997). 



**_Chapter 1: Infrared Herring Toaster_ **

"Pssssst. Francis." Kowalski poked his head around the corner. "Fraaaancis." He waddled in and over to the bed. "Fraaaanciiiiiis."

Dr. Blowhole lifted his head slightly and glanced towards him. "Whaaaat? I'm sleeping."

Kowalski stepped closer. "I finished it."

"Finished...Wha-That thing you were working on last night?" He yawned, stretching as he sat up.

"Yeah! It's ready to test!" He grinned. "I have it set up in the kitchen."

Blowhole nodded slowly. "Alright, meet you there."

Kowalski nodded and slid back out for the kitchen. There he waddled over to a small invention on the table. This device strongly resembled a toaster. He preemptively plopped two herrings into the device and then waited patiently.

Soon enough, Blowhole rolled in. He acknowledged Kowalski's existence with a slight nod but veered over to the coffee machine first. He plopped a pod in, popped it down, then rolled over to Kowalski while it did its thing.

"Alright, let's see this new doohikey."

Kowalski waved his flipper before it with his best Vanna White impression. "The Infrared Herring Toaster 2.0!"

"A herring toaster."

"An _infrared_ herring toaster." He pushed down the lever and two herring disappeared into the toaster. "As you see, the herring will be evenly toasted unlike when using a conventional bread toaster."

Blowhole glanced over as he heard the coffee maker ping. He rolled back just enough to reach his mug and returned, taking a sip. "And I'm assuming you considered having multiple setting options?"

"Of course I made sure it had different heating options." He rolled his eyes as the herring popped up after a couple minutes. He picked up a pair of nearby tongs to fish the herring out and sat them on a plate. "See? Nicely toasted."

The dolphin leaned in closer to inspect it. "Yep. Nice and burnt."

"What?!" Kowalski looked at the herring himself again. "No! That's not burnt. That is sufficiently toasted."

"Sufficiently overdone perhaps."

"Alright, alright, so I'll cook yours at a lower setting." He turned the dial down.

Blowhole then reached over and turned the dial down even further. "That should be about right right there."

Kowalski squinted at this but nevertheless dropped two herrings into the toaster again and pressed them down. "While this cooks I'm going to-" He then is interrupted by the herring popping right back up. "Great cod that was barely in there!" He fished them out and looked at them. "These don't even look toasted!"

Blowhole looked down at them and nodded. "Looks right to me."

"It's barely even warm, Francis!"

"That's properly toasted herring."

"That's not toasted. I could have just sat the plate of herring by the toaster while the other batch toasted to get this warm."

"I can't help that you like your herring burnt. I like mine to still taste like fish, not char." He rolled his eye, getting the plate. "However, thank you for breakfast. Interesting invention. Nice to see it didn't catch fire this time." He took another sip of his coffee.

Kowalski grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as he stepped over to pour himself another cup of tea. "You're welcome for your lightly warmed herring, Francis."

Blowhole glanced over at him. "Hope you enjoy your dry, flavorless herring crisp, Mittens." He swallowed one of herring. "Because my herring is fantastic."

"Mmmhmm." He rolled his eyes, moving the toaster from the table and then hopping up into a chair with his tea. "Glad to hear it."

"Anyway. Aren't you peng-u-ins going on some mission today?"

Kowalski sipped his tea and nodded. "Yeah. We'll be gone a few days at least."

"Can I get a few more substantial details?"

"Skipper would want me to say no, _howerever_ -" He took a bite of herring and swallowed it. "I know you hate Dave too, so I have no problem sharing these details with you."

"The details being?"

"North Wind contacted us about a possible new lair of Dave's out in the Atlantic Ocean. We're going to sail out to the coordinates they think it is near and investigate."

"And I'm assuming if you find something that Skipper is having you guys infiltrate and destroy it?"

"Probably yeah." He nodded, sipping his tea. "There is no way he's just going to hand the mission back to North Wind if we find something. We may be on the same side, but we don't really get along."

"You don't say?" Blowhole tapped his rostrum thoughtfully. "Is that the team your ex is a member of?"

Kowalski sighed, nodding again. "Yeah. She was who sent me the mission details."

"Well have fun with that." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But be careful, alright?"

"I doubt we'll see anything, Francis. They have a horrible track-record of sending sucky coordinate estimations."

"Still. Be careful and come back alive. If you get yourself killed, I _will_ kill you."

Kowalski squinted at him with a slight smile. "And how will that work exactly?"

"I'll figure it out if I must. But don't you make me have to, understand?"

"Alright, alright. I swear I'll be careful and come back alive and in one piece." He raised a flipper as he gave his oath. "Penguin's honor."

"Good." He finished his herring and coffee before getting both his and Kowalski's plates. "Now, shouldn't you take a nap or something before you need to go?"

Kowalski shook his head, stretching. "No, I'm fine. I'm not even tired."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I took a ten minute nap around 0400."

Blowhole frowned at that. "And you're sure you're fine navigating an aquatic mission on such little sleep?"

"Oh yeah." He nodded, a serious but friendly smile on his beak. "It's not the first mission I've been a part of on little sleep and it won't be the last I'm sure."

"Fine..." He eyed him carefully. "So when do you need to go?"

"I was thinking of going after breakfast actually. It's going to take at least an hour to get back to the zoo and I need to double-check the sailboat to make sure she's still shipshape." He finished his tea and got his and Francis's cups, following the dolphin over to the dishwasher.

"Makes sense." He nodded, getting the cups from Kowalski and putting them in along with the plates.

"I'm going to go grab my things. You need anything before I do?" He looked up at him.

"Nah, go get your stuff. I'll see you at the door."

Kowalski nodded before sliding off to Francis's bedroom. He waddled over to the bedside table on the far side of the bed and pulled open a drawer. He took out his clipboard and pencil before closing the drawer and unplugging his phone charger and grabbing his phone. He puts these items on his feet, in his egg pouch, like usual and slid out of the room.

Blowhole was waiting by the door, flippers crossed, staring into space as he was thinking. However, he glanced over as he heard Kowalski's approach. "You got everything?"

"Phone, charger, notes, and pencil are all accounted for." He nodded.

"Alright, then I'll see you in a few days."

"I'll text you as soon as we're back in New York." He smiled.

"Okay." He nodded, leaning down closer to Kowalski's level.

The two exchanged a quick kiss before Kowalski stepped out the door. "Bye, Francis." He waved, then slid off to his car.


	2. Rough Seas

**A.N. - Potentially disturbing scene warning! TW: Near-drowning!**

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Rough Seas** _

Kowalski smiled as he held on to the mast with his feet and left flipper, holding a spyglass up to his eye. He took a deep breath and sighed before starting to climb down. "Looks like smooth sailing for now, sir." He hopped down and landed in the stern of the sailboat.

"How are we doing on navigation?"

"Still on course. I'd estimate about five or so hours away?" He nodded to him as he sat down by the side of the boat. He glanced over at Rico and Private as, once again, they attempted to play chess. He was quite thankful he had gotten over being seasick prone, as he was in his youth. Pirates, after all, lived on the sea so they surely were rarely seasick.

And while they were on this boat, Kowalski could imagine himself as a pirate at sea with ease. He closed his eyes, feeling the waves gently rock the boat and the breeze play with his feathers, and he felt fully relaxed. As long as the seas kept this up, they'd reach the coordinates Eva had sent him in no time. Maybe they could do a little fishing afterwards before they return to New York and make up for that ruined fishing trip from a few years ago that resulted in them being trapped in Hoboken.

However, when he heard the distant roll of thunder, he opened his eyes once more and looked up at the sky. The sky still looked clear ahead of them. He turned and looked back towards Skipper and his eyes widened. "Oh good golly wally."

"What is it, Kowa-" Private started to ask, but stopped and gasped as he saw the dark wall of clouds behind them as well. "Oh dear."

"There's a storm rolling in, sir."

Skipper glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. "Right. No need to panic. We got through the last storm just fine. We'll weather this one even better." He thought for a moment. "Hois-No. Cut the mainsail!"

"Aye, Skipper!" Private chirped, hopping up to lower the sail. Rico also jumped up to assist.

While the others took care of the sail, Kowalski worked on safely securing their supplies and equipment as the waves began to kick up and the clouds overhead opened up and began to pour down upon their heads. Skipper frowned, gripping hard to the tiller and averting his eyes from the rain. "Steady, men. It'll be over soon. Just a little summer thunderstorm."

However, the wind picked up at Skipper's words and the waves grew rougher and much larger. Water began to crash onto their boat. An angry word slipped from his beak before anyone could cover Private's earholes, but he made no indication that he heard it.

"Sir, if the waves get much rougher they may wash someone overboard!" Kowalski shouted. "We should tie ourselves to the mast for security in case!"

Skipper nodded and looked towards Rico. "Rico, more rope!"

Rico saluted before unspooling more rope from within his beak. He tossed one rope to each of the others before he worked to tie both himself, and the end of Skipper's longer rope to the mast. Kowalski tied the ends of his and Private's ropes to the mast while Private fumbled to tie his to himself.

A large wave rammed the ship, tilting it sideways. "Ah!" Private yelped as he began to lose his footing, but Kowalski caught him by the flipper and pulled him close to the mast. As the boat leveled out once again, he dropped his own rope to securely tie Private's around his waist.

"Hold on to the mast and don't let go, okay?" He looked him sternly in the eyes before nudging him closer to the pole. He looked over and noticed the last wave had knocked loose one of the panels on the stern. "Rico! I need a hammer!"

"'Atch!" Rico tossed it to him.

Kowalski caught it, and made his way to the stern to hammer the paneling back down before too much water got inside their little boat. He kept hold of the boat with one flipper, hammering with the other.

Private then gasped. "Kowalski! You're not tied down!"

"I'm fine; I'll only be a minute more!" He bit his tongue as he tried to concentrate on the quick repair. It was hard to see and keep his grip with all the wind whipping stinging rain into his face.

Skipper averted his eyes with his flipper for a moment as a bright flash of lighting lit up the sky with a violent crash of thunder. When he looked up, to his horror he saw the mainsail begin to crack and fall. Kowalski just finished the repair and stood up to make his way back to the mast and his rope. "LOOK-" The word barely made it off Skipper's tongue as the snapped mast swung around and hit Kowalski's chest head-on. It continued with its momentum, swinging towards the sea, and it took Kowalski with it to where he, dazed, clung to it for dear life.

"HOLD ON, MAN. RICO, GET A-" Skipper was once again cut off by a monster wave hitting the boat. The three penguins still on the boat nearly found themselves washed off, but the ropes kept them securely attached to the deck. When Skipper, sputtering and coughing, looked back at the mast, Kowalski was gone.

Winded and weakened from his collision with the mast, Kowalski was easily swallowed by the wave when it struck the ship. The sudden feeling of being underwater however woke him up enough to try to swim towards the surface. The problem with that was, with all the swirling and crashing waves, he couldn't orient himself very well. He shook his head, trying to gain a little more clarity as he swam in the direction his gut told him was up. He broke the surface and took a large, painful gulp of air. He was right beside the boat, but before he could call up to the others for help, another wave hit, shoving him down and smashing him into the underside of the boat. Darkness swam into his vision after his head hit the ship, but he couldn't just stay under the water. He needed to surface. He needed to get back on the boat.

Once again, he weakly attempted to swim upwards. His flipper came in contact with some ocean trash that the storm had kicked up and before he knew it, he found himself entangled by a couple old plastic bags. He panicked, trying to get loose from this barely seen force restricting his movements. Once again the darkness began to creep into his vision. His lungs burned and ached. His head was pounding, and soon he passed out from exhaustion and pain.

On the ship, the other three kept watching the waves in hope that they may see Kowalski's head pop up. The storm dissipated just as suddenly as it had hit. Private took out Kowalski's spyglass from its secure storage compartment and looked out at the ocean. "I...I don't see him, Skipper."

Skipper untied himself. "Rico, hold the tiller." He passed him as he stepped over to Private and took the spyglass from him. "He...He should be popping up any moment now. He probably was just holding his breath and staying under til the waves calmed."

Minutes passed and Skipper's look of concern dissolved into bleak acceptance. He passed the spyglass back to Private, shaking his head. "We've lost him."

"Wh-What do you mean? Surely he's still out there!" Private clutched the spyglass close, looking terrified back at the sea.

"Private…" He sighed, taking the tiller position back from Rico. "There's no telling where the waves might have taken him. He could have gotten swept up in a current and pulled deeper into the ocean. With how rough the ocean was, he probably couldn't get up for air and drowned."

"You...You think he's d-dead, sir?" He looked back at him with large, tear-filled eyes. Rico looked over at Skipper with a nearly identical expression.

Skipper looked away and out at the ocean. "If our ship was intact, I would say we could search for what's left of him, but we're going to have to repair the mast before we can do anything. I think...I think it's best if we return to shore."

"But sir!"

"No buts, Private. This mission was a failure. We are returning to shore before another storm hits us and completely demolishes what's left of the ship!" He barked, glaring at the younger recruit, before turning away, back to the tiller of the ship. "I'm sorry, boys...But Kowalski's with Manfredi or Johnson now." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and gripping the tiller more tightly. "...What I wouldn't give for some options right now…."


	3. Spirit Guides

**_Chapter 3: Spirit Guides_ **

At the sound of the door opening, Blowhole looked up from the invention he was working on. "Hello, Red One."

"Ah yeah, hi, Doc." The lobster clipped his claw. "So uh, the front door trap was sprung."

"Ugh, is it Hans again?"

"No sir, it's a penguin."

Blowhole frowned and turned towards him. "Kowalski got himself trapped again?" That didn't sound likely to himself either...but it wouldn't be the first time he sprung a trap on accident.

"No sir. It's Skipper."

"Skipper?" He scrunched up his rostrum before sighing and setting aside his screwdriver. "Alright, I'll go see what he's here for. Maybe his calendar's off."

Red One nodded and skittered out, leading the way out from the lab, and down to the lobby where Skipper hung from the ceiling, wrapped in ropes. The dolphin approached the little peng-u-in prisoner. Something wasn't right about this. Why was Skipper here? Alone? If Skipper was here, then where was Kowalski and why hadn't he let him know he was back from their mission?

He squinted at Skipper. "My newest plot isn't ready for you yet. You're way too early."

"I'm not here to fight." The flat-head's voice was different from usual. It lacked the usual aggressive edge. It felt...Wrong.

Blowhole squinted more and leaned closer. "Then why are you here?"

Skipper wouldn't make eye contact with him. He turned slightly away. "We lost him."

His blood ran cold. Surely he didn't mean what it sounded like he just said?

"Lost who?"

"Kowalski…We lost him overboard…In a storm." Skipper paused for a second. "Sorry…But…He's gone."

Blowhole started shaking his head. "No. No he can't be." His frown deepened and he glared at the peng-u-in. "You left him behind?"

"We had to! Our boat was critically damaged and there was too much of a risk to stay out on the water in case another storm came. I couldn't risk the whole team for one man. Kowalski was a good lieutenant, but we have to move on."

"You've given up on him this quickly? Wow."

Skipper looked at him. "Blowhole—"

"No, you listen to me." He held up a fin to his beak. "You trained him. You don't think you trained him well enough that he could have survived?"

"It's Kowalski! Survival training was never his best area! He can't even make a decision on his own. If he survived the ocean, he probably will have already been eaten by something by the time we find where he ended up! I'm not exposing Private to his half-eaten remains!"

Blowhole bared his teeth at him. "Exactly, this is Kowalski. You know how things keep trying to kill him but he always survives and bounces back. When I find him, I'll make sure to tell him how quickly you wrote him off as deceased," he growled.

Skipper sighed, looking away. "Blowhole, I really don't think he's bouncing back this time. It'll be a waste of time and resources."

"I can't believe I'm hearing you say this. He's your _brother_. The Skipper I know would have never left behind one of his own. What happened to that credo you held so dear?"

"It's hard...But a commander has to make hard, in the moment choices sometimes."

"And now your enemy is literally standing before you with the resources and manpower to spare for a search and you're still reluctant for a search party." He crossed his fins, glaring. After a long moment of silence, he sighed and looked away. "You're scared of what we'll find."

"Took you that long to figure that out, genius?" He rolled his eyes. "You want to untie me already so we can continue this conversation like equals?"

"Fine." Blowhole pulled one strand of the rope and Skipper face-planted on the ground. "Is that better?"

"Yeah." He peeled himself off the ground and dusted himself off.

"So are you going to let your brother be eaten alive by some predator, or are we going Kowalski fishing?" He crossed his fins with a look. "Because with or without you, I'm going fishing."

Skipper looked up at him and rubbed his flipper across his face. "Fine. Yeah...I'll get the boys."

"While you do that, I'll start working on tracking the trajectory of the ocean currents. I'll need the rough coordinates of where your boat was when the storm hit."

"I have Kowalski's phone. I'll text it to you."

"Better get it fast. You know every second counts in a search and rescue mission. And if he's dead due to you taking so long to get help looking for him, I'm pinning his death on you." He sneered before turning and rolling away.

* * *

Groaning, one long, slender penguin blinked his eyes open on a beach. He coughed up some vile mixture of sand and water before rolling over onto his back with a shiver. He tightly shut his eyes against his pounding headache and the sharp ache of his ribs. After resting for a few minutes, he finally sat up and took a glance around his surroundings.

"Where am I?" He tapped his flipper tips together before looking down at those same flippers. "Who am I?" He slowly stood up from the sand, clutching his aching side. "Why do I have owies? How did I get here? What exactly am I? Am I all alone?" He began to stumble across the sand, further inland.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a flash of light and stumbled backwards, falling into the sand. Before him now stood some glowing quadruped with a tufted tail, hooves, and black and white stripes. "Hey! If it ain't the smarty bird from Manhattan!"

Kowalski looked to either side of him. "Where?"

"You!"

"Me? I'm a smarty bird?"

"Yeah!" The quadruped approached him, putting a hoofed foreleg around his shoulders and gestured with his other. "You know all kindsa stuff. Like, all that math and science jazz."

"If I'm a smarty bird...What are you?" He tilted his head, looking up at him. "A monochromatic llama?"

"Llama?! What! No man, I ain't no llama! I'm a zebra. One hundred percent Marty zebra, here to be your spirit guide!" Marty put his hoof to his hip. "Ain't that just crackalackin? Been awhile since we got to chat, ain't it?"

"My spirit what now? Crackalacking? Lacking what?" Kowalski blinked and rubbed his aching head. "Sir, I don't have the foggiest notion of what you're going on about. I'm sorry."

At this moment, the zebra beside him began to flash brighter. "Well, looks like I ain't gonna be the one to explain myself. Catcha on the flip-side smarty bird." The apparition winked at him before vanishing.

"Wait, I still have questions!" He exclaimed, but then sighed and sat there on the sand. "Okay so...So far I know I'm a smarty bird, whatever that is, and I'm crackalacking something?" He made a face and looked further down the beach. He spotted a gleam from something metallic and squiggly and waddled over. "Oh?" He knelt down and picked up a small spiral bound, weather-proof notepad with a pencil shoved through the spiral. He tilted his head as he picked it up. It felt remarkably familiar in his flippers, like it may have belonged to him.

Before him, there was another flash of light and so he looked up. Now there was another black and white fellow, but this one had the same feet and wing-fin-things like he himself had...But also a really flat head.

"Earth to egghead, get your act together!"

Kowalski blinked at him. "Look. I don't know who you are, but yelling at me right now is not helping me get whatever act together." He narrowed his eyes at him.

"We have a mission to complete. I need my options, man!"

"You need options? Sir, _I_ need explanations. I don't even know who the hell you are!" He wildly gestured.

The flat-headed bird paced before him. "Enough with the idle chitter-chatter. I need our coordinates and options for how to get off this island."

"How am I supposed to provide you with options when I don't know what's going on? When I don't even know who I am? I can't do it! I'm sorry!" He rubbed back the feathers on his head and bit his tongue. "M-maybe this notepad knows something I've forgotten?" He began flipping through the pages.

When he looked up, the flat-headed bird was gone and in his place stood some tall, noodly grey creature. Kowalski squinted up at him and his slightly robotic face. "What the hell happened to the snappy flat-head? I was trying to find whatever options he kept demanding!"

The robotic-faced grey creature looked down at him and shook his head before starting to slink away towards the ocean. "Yeah, no. Even I can't spirit guide that mess." He then vanished beneath the water.

Kowalski huffed with frustration and returned to the notebook. "This is just full doodles and numbers that I have no idea what they mean." He tossed it to the side. "Completely useless."

"Are you sure about that, subgenius?"

He turned and looked at a blue chicken beside him that now held the notebook. "Subgenius?"

"Well, yeah. Subgenius to _my_ genius." She clucked.

Kowalski rolled his eyes, taking the notebook back from her. "The zebra thought I was smart and flat-head wanted my options, so excuse me if I don't believe you. Now...How do I get rid of you? Shoo?" He waves his flipper at her. "Shoo!"

"Subgenius." The blue chicken crossed her wings with a look and vanished with a small flash of light.

"I AM NOT A SUBGENIUS!" He sneered before pausing. "At least...I don't think I am?" He looked back at the notebook with a sigh. "Maybe I am since I can't remember how to interpret any of this…" He looked around himself. "I could use a helpful spirit guide now if one would like to manifest itself. I'll accept whoever this time. Please?"

Kowalski smiled sheepishly at the next flash of light brought apparition as he suddenly regretted his words. Now before him was some brown, walking rag. "Hi! I'm confused and upset, and who are you?"

"Hi Confused. I'm Fred."

"Is...Is that actually my name? Is my name actually Confused?"

"I don't know, that's what you told me it is."

"Oh…." He sighed and shook his head. "You're more of the paws off spirit guide type?"

"Spirit guide, what's that?"

Kowalski stared at him and rubbed his flippers across his face. "Oh cod." He noticed a flash of light from between his flippers and looked between them. The long noodly sea creature from before was back. "I thought you left?"

"I tried, the flat-head said I had to come back." He snorted, crossing his fins.

"Oh yeah, flat-head seemed pretty grumpy. That doesn't surprise me." Kowalski tilted his head and looked at him. "So...You know that other spirit guide?"

The apparition looked down at him. "Well yeah, we're all part of your scattered memories."

"So...The zebra, the flat-head, the chicken, the walking rag, and you...The cool shark?" He smiled nervously at him.

"Not a shark. Try again." He rolled his eye.

Kowalski tapped his beak. "Manatee?"

"I AM NOT A SEACOW!"

"Mermaid?"

The apparition is quiet for a moment before he sighed. "Your favorite animal, Kowalski."

"My favorite animal is a mermaid?"

"You know what? Sure. I'm a sexy siren."

Kowalski nodded and smiled at him. "What did you call me again? Is that my name?"

"Yeah, you're Kowalski." He nodded.

"Cool-whales-ski?" He made a face and looked around. "Where are cool whales skiing?"

"No, Ko-wall-ski. No whales. No skiing."

Kowalski mumbled this to himself, nodding slowly. "Kowalski. My name is Kowalski. Yeah, that sounds right." He looked up. "And what am I?"

"A peng-u-in. A type of antarctic aquatic bird."

"So not a smarty bird?"

The siren raised a brow at him. "I guess you're a smarty bird, too." He chuckled slightly. "You're a genius inventor, much like myself."

A broad smile crossed his face. "And your name is?"

"Dr. Blowhole. A devilishly handsome dolphin evil genius, and it seems I'm stuck being your spirit guide."


	4. Back to Basics

_**Chapter 4: Back to Basics** _

"Any luck?"

Francis looked up from the large planning map on the table before him with his eye narrowed. "Ask me one more time, Skipper. I. Dare. You." He growled.

Skipper crossed his flippers with a huff. "You're the one who was whining about speed and everything."

The dolphin rolled his eye and flipped on some music loudly as he tried to focus on the map once more. He adjusted the ruler from a point coordinate and drew a line out into the water. He then drew another line from an angle and bit his lip.

"Which way were the winds blowing?"

"Towards us."

"Which way would that have been? North, West?"

"How am I supposed to know? I had bigger concerns at the time."

Francis glanced at him and sighed, lowering his head and shaking it. "You better hope we find him. You're useless without him."

"Am not!"

"Skipper, all of these are important details, and you know if Kowalski was here, he'd have them written down."

"That's because it's part of his job description."

"Oh and you think you could replace him and get the same results?"

Private held his flippers over his earholes with watery eyes. "CAN YOU BOTH JUST QUIT IT?! _PLEASE_?!"

The two looked over at him and then away.

"I get it. We're all worried. We're all out of sorts. But THIS is NOT helping! If we're going to find Kowalski, we need to bloody work together!"

Skipper whirled around. "Private, language!"

Private glared back at him, blinking back tears, but didn't say anything more.

Francis took a deep breath and looked at the map again. "I'll have my lobsters prepare my sub. You peng-u-wins are welcome to ride with us or to take your own sub...Should be able to fit inside mine if you'd like to ride and bring it with us."

"We'll cover more ocean if we split up." He passed Kowalski's phone to Private. "Call Kowalski's phone if you see anything."

"Yeah...It should have me under favorites if you see him first."

* * *

"Soo...How exactly does this work?" Kowalski sat in the sand and looked up at his dolphin apparition with a smile. "Do I just sit here while you explain everything?"

Blowhole raised a brow. "What's this look like? Identity 101 class? No." He rolled his eye. "You're figuring yourself out on your own. I'm just here to keep you on the right track and make sure you don't get yourself killed in the process."

"Well...Then how do I start?"

"You tell me. Listen to that peng-u-in gut, what's it say to do?"

Kowalski made a face and looked up at him. "My wha?" He looked down at his stomach and attempted to lean down to it to listen, but stopped with a hiss. Nope. His ribs did not like that. He sat up and took a deep breath. "Is pain an answer?"

Blowhole looked at him. "Sure. So your ribs are hurt. What's a smart thing to do about it?"

"Um…" He held his flipper to his forehead and furrowed his brow as he thought. "Hurt ribs...I need a splint." He looked around. "We don't have bandages...But…" His eyes stopped on some seaweed that the tide brings in and he smiled widely. "We do have seaweed!" He carefully got up and waddled over to the pile. He knelt down to it, careful to avoid bending his as much as possible and scooped it closer to himself. Biting his tongue as he concentrated his cloudy head, he used the seaweed as a wrap around his abdomen, pausing every few minutes to blink back pained tears. When he was finished, he secured the seaweed to itself and got up. It still hurt some, but it was at least a little more bearable.

Kowalski looked around for Blowhole and saw him chilling in the ocean. "Well? What's next?"

"Mm." The dolphin floated on his back with his flippers behind his head. "Think survival. What would make the most sense to you?"

"Right, survival." He rubbed his face with a tired sigh. "Maybe somewhere safe to rest?"

"Shelter."

"Yeah! Shelter." He looked back towards the forest before shaking his head. "Can I have a second option?"

Blowhole frowned. "What? That's too far for you?"

Kowalski grimaced and looked pleadingly at him. "...Maybe…"

"And what would Skipper say about that?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I don't even know what a Skipper is!"

Blowhole pulled himself up onto the beach with a look. "Okay, first of all, you don't say that word."

"I don't?"

"No. You don't really swear...In fact, you've censored me a few times around Private."

Kowalski frowned slightly as he rubbed his temples. "You keep saying names I don't know, Blowhole."

The dolphin groaned. "Okay, fine, basic lesson time. You live with three other penguins: Skipper, Rico, and Private. Skipper's your commanding officer."

"...So I'm like...In the military?"

"Kinda. You're a commando reconnaissance team. You keep villains from taking over the world."

Kowalski's eyes grew wide. "BUT WE'RE JUST PENGUINS? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A PENGUIN IS LIKE, BUT I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S A BIT MUCH."

"Hey hey hey, chill out." The dolphin bapped his head softly. "It's not too much for you guys as a team. You're quite effective together."

"Then why am I alone now?!"

"Obviously, you got separated from them. They're probably out searching for you right now...You know, if they don't think you're dead or something."

Kowalski scowled at him. "You're not helping me feel better."

"Never said making you feel good was part of my job description. I'm just supposed to keep you alive, remember?" Blowhole fiddled with a piece of seaweed with a bored expression.

"Ugh." The penguin laid back on the sand.

"Look, Kowalski. I get you're hurting. I get you're tired. But you can't stay out here in the open on the beach."

"And why not?" He yawned.

The dolphin apparition plopped next to him on the ground. "Oh you know, storms, dehydration and burns from the sun, predators, et cetera." He gestured with his flipper.

He turned his head towards him. "Predators?"

"Oh yeah. No telling what lives on this island, but a tasty morsel like yourself laying in full view out in the open, injured? Oh yeah, you'd be an easy snack."

Kowalski sat up with a groan. "Fiiiine. I'm going to get a sip of water, then I'll go to the woods."

"Good decision." He watched as the penguin waddled over to the ocean. "Wait, no, I don't think you're supposed to drink that—"

Too late. Kowalski's already dunked his beak into the waves and took a large lick. He then lifted his head with his face scrunched up. "Bleh. That's… _Ugh_." He tried to wipe the flavor from his tongue with his flippers.

"I tried to warn you." He sighed. "It shouldn't hurt you since you are built to process salt water, but it still probably tastes like brined garbage."

Kowalski nodded and lumbered his way back onto the beach. "Well, if anything I feel more awake," he said, stretching himself gently. "So I guess I'll start for the forest and find shelter." He wiped his now running beak from the salt water and started slowly waddling further inland.


End file.
